


Sunday Morning

by justdk



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Childhood Memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 03:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: Bad memories encroach on Andrew's day and Neil is there to help





	Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from Johnny Cash's "Sunday Morning Coming Down" and "Hurt"

Neil’s gone.

Andrew sighs and cranes his head until he can see the digital alarm clock, its bright red numbers glaring in the dark room. It’s 6:20 and Neil’s pillow is cool to the touch meaning he’s been gone for a while.

It feels like a travesty to wake up so early on a Sunday but without Neil’s warm presence beside him Andrew doubts he’ll be able to get back to sleep. He stumbles out of bed, scrounging clothes from the floor and pulling them on, not worrying if they belong to him or Neil. It all sorts out eventually though Aaron has taken to calling them an old married couple for all that they share each other’s clothes. Aaron’s just jealous because he’s not brave enough to wear Katelyn’s shirts.

Soft snores come from the other bedrooms and Kevin’s asleep on the couch, Neil’s stuffed fox crushed against his chest. He’s frowning in his sleep and grinding his teeth, a sure sign he’s having a stress-related Exy dream. Andrew moves past him to the kitchen and fusses with the coffeemaker. If only Wymack could see him now, up at the crack of dawn and jonesing for a pot of coffee and a cigarette.

While the coffee’s brewing Andrew opens the kitchen cabinets and retrieves the bag of powdered doughnuts he stored away. They’re hidden in the empty flour canister, a place no one in the house would ever bother looking. Andrew’s stashed all sorts of things in this spot over the years but these days it’s mostly benign items like sweets.

The smell of coffee fills the kitchen, washing Andrew with countless memories. He focuses on the good ones, the recent ones. Coffee with coach, coffee at the diner surrounded by his teammates, Neil attempting to be sweet by making him a truly terrible cup of coffee. He pours a mug and fixes it the way he likes it, substituting 2% milk for cream. He takes a sip and confirms that it’s pretty damn good.

Andrew slips a pack of cigarettes into his pocket, grabs the bag of doughnuts and coffee mug, and heads out the front door. He settles on the stoop and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of wet grass and earth and asphalt. The grey morning light makes the dew on the unruly grass and weeds look silver, casting a sleepy, almost forbidding spell on the neighborhood. With all the houses still and dark Andrew can almost imagine that he’s the only one awake, the only one alive, in the entire world.

He shakes off the feeling and opens the bag of doughnuts, selecting one and popping it in his mouth, his fingers already reaching for a second. The powered sugar melts on his tongue, filling his mouth with intense sweetness. He remembers the first time he had powdered doughnuts, his greedy need to lick his fingers clean, savoring each bit of sugar because there was no guarantee he would get more. Cas had laughed at him and given him another two…

That memory gets doused with a scalding gulp of coffee. Andrew scans the street, waiting for Neil to return, wondering where he’s managed to run off to. The streets are ghost town quiet but in a couple hours they’ll be busy with church traffic, all good suburbanites heading off for their mandatory hour in a pew. Memory tugs at Andrew again, this time it’s a Johnny Cash song. In his mind Andrew hears the old man singing that _there’s nothin’ short of dyin’ that’s half as lonesome as the sound of the sleepin’ city sidewalk and Sunday mornin’ comin’ down_

Cas liked to play his greatest hits in the car, always being careful to skip over his cover of Nine Inch Nail’s “Hurt.” Andrew listened to the song when she wasn’t around. He listened to it on repeat, burning the words in his brain. He used to wonder if Cas knew… if that’s why she skipped the song. He drinks his coffee and tells himself he doesn’t care and it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter. He shoves the doughnuts away and lights a cigarette, getting up and wandering to the end of the driveway. A deep, burning inhale. _Everyone I know goes away in the end… and you can have it all my empire of dirt_ … _I will let you down I will make you hurt_

There’s an itch beneath his skin. Andrew rubs unsteady fingers over his thick armbands, feeling the hard edge of a knife underneath. His eyes strain, peering down the street, the ache inside him building with each agonized second.

He waits and watches until the cigarette is smoked to the filter. He turns away, moves towards the house on leaden feet. It doesn’t matter.

He hears Neil’s footfalls first, light and perfectly paced. The rhythmic thud breaks the stifling silence, drags him out of his suffocating spiral. The relief is instantaneous. Next he hears Neil breathing, measured and steady. And then Neil is standing in front of him, bright-eyed and sweaty, his shirt sticking to his chest. He smiles like Andrew is the prize at the end of the race. He grabs the bottom of his too large shirt and pulls it up, wiping off his face and giving Andrew a glimpse of his flat stomach, sharp hipbones, and dull scars. Andrew thinks that licking powdered sugar off those hipbones would be just the thing to turn his morning around.

Neil drops the shirt and catches Andrew staring. His smile intensifies and he steps closer, not touching, but near enough for Andrew to feel his heat.

“Hey.” Neil’s voice is a little raspy, a little parched.

Andrew’s battered heart stutters and he’s reaching for Neil, digging his fingers into his damp hair, pulling him down.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asks. His voice is unsteady. Neil keeps finding ways to throw him off his balance. He would be a liar if he said he didn’t like it.

“Yes,” Neil says.

He goes willingly, drawn into Andrew’s rough, needy kisses. He lets Andrew pull him into the house and up the stairs. He laughs when Andrew drags a powdered doughnut over his skin and then moans when Andrew follows it with his tongue.

Andrew captures all of it in his mind. His fingers squeeze between Neil’s, holding fast to him. _This_ is his reality. He doesn’t have to hurt anymore and he doesn’t have to feel alone and unwanted.

Neil breathes his name and Andrew’s heart is pierced through.

There are some words they haven’t said yet but when he whispers Neil’s name against his skin and feels the answering thud of his heart he knows, they both know.

Once he told Neil that they weren’t each other’s answer. He’s never been so glad to have been proved wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> as most things I attempt to write, this started with a light, romantic idea but spun into something darker
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


End file.
